


The Weaver's Tale

by SailoLee



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 03:06:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19076212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailoLee/pseuds/SailoLee
Summary: Once, in a small village on the outskirts of a kingdom, lied a weaver and his lover.





	The Weaver's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try to imitate a classic folk tale you would hear growing up that taught a moral at the end. I think it turned out pretty good. I'm really proud of this :) This was also very heavily influenced by the Seasonal Feathers cover by Lyrratic ft. SirHamnet so give that a listen if you can!
> 
> Hopefully I can start working on the next part of the Aggressive Cuddler series after this.

Once, in the countryside of a small kingdom lay a quaint village.The people of this village enjoyed simple lives of farming and selling simple, homemade wares. None in the village were particularly well-off, but they made an honest living on their own merit and they liked it that way. However, there was one thing about the town that made it rather odd compared to other villages in the kingdom. Although the kingdom typically followed the teachings of a God known for their power and war prowess, certain villages would deviate and instead go for one of the God’s minor accolades. Some followed the wise, long-standing patience of the frog. Other preferred the sly snake, ambitious and secretive. This particular village however, was the one to follow the fox. The reason for this, was that the village was known to harbor many “unsavory” sorts.Deserters from the state army, harlots, _heretics_ even. People in this town all had things to keep secret, and so they kept to themselves and minded their own affairs. Much like a fox, usually quite a solitary creature but associated with trouble.  
In this town lived two young men. Brothers they named themselves, though just a glance could disprove this easily. Not because of their physical differences, though they were great. but rather in the glances shared and missed between the two. The love and affection much different to those shared by siblings. They lived together in a small house on the outskirts of town and bothered no one. So although the kingdom said such relationships were blasphemous and should be reported to the regularly patrolling soldiers for proper judgement, the villagers saw no reason to do so. They brought no harm or strife to any living around them, so the villagers were content to leave them be..  
The two men, like most villagers, lived as simple farmers growing wheat and corn, the occasional turnip if the finicky weather was agreeable during the years. The farm belonged to the raven haired mann and was once a sprawling family complex. The horrid slaught of his family by kingdom soldiers for purportedly attempting to stage a Ku against the kingdom was one of the darkest times for the small village. Many refused to believe it and whispered of conspiracy. A local teacher, known for his soft heart and mysterious facial scar crossing the bridge of his nose, took the boy in, though he was already caring for another orphan child. This boy of course was the blond, and as years passed things progressed naturally between the two boys until their fates became intertwined, unbreakable. Upon the untimely death of the teacher from sickness, both decided to continue living together at the old complex.  
Most of the houses were levelled and replaced by produce and one special addition; mulberry. Though they got by most times, when money was tight the blond would collect the silk worms from the mulberry leaves and harvest them to spin silk the way his mother taught him. Though memories were hazy of his long passed parents, he could solidly recall his mother’s soft voice instructing him and her hands, hardened from calluses handling the harsh silk, guiding him along. The raven hated seeing his lover’s hands so badly injured from weaving. Though delicate and soft once weaved, silk was sharp as knives and regularly split a weaver’s hands. There were gloves to help protect them, but they were expensive, so the blond hardly saw any reason to waste money on something he would not use often.  
Their life was quie. Content. They lived for each other and no one else. Their days were spent in the fields and their nights at the door, listening to the world surrounding them, no space between the two.  
It was a good life.  
~~~

The crops were just beginning to come in ready for harvesting when it happened. Winter had been harsh that year, leaving the raven with a lingering cough he couldn’t shake. The blond suggested he visit the doctor in town, but was assured it would be gone by summer.

And yet it lingered.

And lingered.

And lingered.

All through the planting months until the blond witnessed his collapse in the fields one day. He called for the doctor immediately, the raven not strong enough to deny help. The blond waited anxiously as the pink haired doctor examined his lover. When she finished she turned and he knew from her eyes that this wasn’t a normal sickness. It was likely familial, passed down from parent to child through generations. And though treatable, it required daily treatments to manage. And they were expensive, _highly_ expensive. The doctor could put in the first order, but they took about a fortnight to reach their village, so it was better to buy in bulk. The raven wanted to say no but the blond wouldn’t hear it. They had meagre savings that would cover the first shipment, and it would last a month once it arrived. For the next, the blond pulled out his loom.  
Knowing his tiny patch wouldn’t do much, he put out a plea to the villagers to allow him one year to collect silk worms from their mulberry patches, to not kill the bugs as they normally would. He removed one acre of corn to start a new patch to attract silkworms next season. In return, he would make each agreeable household one silk rug. Such things were a luxury, so most agreed. The blond began his weaving.  
Day in and day out he would weave while also tending the fields. He weaved shirts, rugs, pants, purses and countless other items. His craft was undeniably beautiful and sold for a nice penny. The blond weaved so tirelessly that soon all his wares were dyed red from the blood dripping from his shredded hands. They couldn’t be bandaged for fear they would hinder the weaving process. His exhaustion was palpable. His determination more so. And his love endless.  
The medicine doses helped, though not much. Weaving took time so the doses had to be stretched between supply runs to the village from the capitol. It wasn’t enough, the raven knew, but he said nothing as he cradled his lovers injured hands at night in their bed. The beloved likewise never mentioned the other’s hands were like ice now.

~~~

Time passed.  
The blond kept weaving.  
The raven kept coughing.

~~~

There was talk of a weaver in a small village in the kingdom who created beautiful silk creations, all crimson in color and expertly crafted. Soon, one of the weaver’s purses reached the Emperor’s court. One of the ladies wore it and upon seeing the beauty in the object, the Empress knew she needed one. Not a simple purse though. Such a thing was too mundane for her. No, she needed something much more extravagant. She told the Emperor her wishes and he ordered the weaver brought to the palace.  
The soldiers came for him and the blond could not refuse. Such a thing would spell a certain death for both he and his lover. He watcher from the carriage as the raven tried to follow, but was too weak. The blond was placed in a rom that was closer to a dungeon in the capitol. A grey, brick room with no windows and stiflingly small. He was commanded to make a kimono fir for the Empress then locked in. With no other choice, he sat at the loom and started.

Days passed.

Weeks.

The blond lost track of time. He rarely slept, barely ate from the gruel they would bring once a day. He lost a dangerous amount of weight, feared he would lose his mind. The simple thought of his lover waiting back in their house, quiet and alone the only thing keeping his hands moving. finally, he finished. It was quite possibly his greatest work. Beautiful and light with more intricate detail than anything he’d tried before.

But.  
When presented to the Empress she flew into a rage. Called it an insult, a hideous thing. When she demanded an explanation, the blond complied. He had done all the same as his other crafts with one difference; he had not wept. The tear he shed had caused this deviation.  
For rather than being crimson, the kimono had turned orange from his tears dulling the color of his blood in the fabric.  
The Emperor called it treason, and sent for the blond’s lover to be brought to court so that they would face punishment together for conspiring against the crown. The blond was returned to his room, empty now except for a single strand of silk laying upon the floor. The rest of the silk had been used to make the Empress’ kimono. So he waited. Waited and prayed to fox accolade to keep his lover safe. To keep his _village_ safe from the wrath of the Emperor.  
The blond was brought before court once more. He was told that no one was found at the house except a raven haired man, long dead.

~~~

The Emperor decided beheading was a fitting death for the blond. Said man could care less now. He spent his remaining days deep in prayer, this time praying for the soul of his dead lover and pleas to reunite them upon his death. His tears were gone, his will drained and he simply wished for eternal sleep. The night before his execution however, he heard a voice. So similar to his love that he felt compelled to follow their instructions. The voice told him to wrap the last piece of silk around his neck and keep it there through his beheading. Though unable to fathom why his lover would suggest such a thing the blond did as told, looping the silk gently around his neck. The fabric was like a whisper against his neck, barely noticeable.  
When they came for him in the morning the blond was ready and went willingly and quietly. He kneeled before the court and bowed his head in acquiesce, hearing the footsteps on his executioner slowly approach as the Emperor read off his crimes to deaf ears. His offending kimono was on display, his act of treason for all to see bared in front. He looked at it and felt a sting of pride for just a second, almost in disbelief that he created such a perfect garment before bowing down again. He was ready. The footsteps stopped and he felt a presence behind him. There was a brief second of silence and all watched with kept breaths. A _whoosh_ of air before pressure on the back of his neck. But there was no pain, no blood or a darkening of his sense. The sword glanced off his neck and broke straight in two. The court gasped and the Emperor raced to his feet, face shocked. The sword was freshly sharpened and of the highest quality, he had assured it himself. So how could this be?  
The blond felt the silk around his neck shift slightly before a shadow fell over him. He looked up into the gentle face of his lover in disbelief. Surely he had died and this was his soul coming to meet him before they moved to the afterlife. The raven assured him he was certainly alive and helped him to his feet, holding his hands delicately just as he had all those nights after weaving. The Emperor and Empress were enraged, crying for the guards to arrest them both, to kill them, anything! All were silenced at the loud **snap** of a fan being shut. There, in front of the pedestal that held the orange kimono was the most beautiful man any had laid eyes on before. He was inspecting the kimono with eyes matching the orange color it bore and one look into his face was enough to realise this person was decidedly _not_ human.  
The man praised the blond, called the kimono fit for a god and told him he wished to have it for himself, which the blond instantly agreed to. The man then addressed the court and told them of himself. He was the minor fox accolade of their god, and he had been watching. He had witnessed the atrocities the Emperor had committed in the name of his master, the unnecessary deaths and ever growing greed. Of his vain Empress who accumulated wealth as her people starved and struggled. Mostly though, he had watched the weaver. His dedication and everlasting love to his lover, the sacrifice of his own blood to his art. Of how he had given everything he had to the raven and it had been returned tenfold. Such passion and selflessness had moved the fox accolade, so when he saw the raven was dying in the absence of his beloved, he had intervened. Rather than dying, he had been placed in a deep sleep so as to fool the approaching soldiers. Then, he granted him with new health and ordered him to the capitol to save his beloved.  
Faced with an actual accolade of their god, the Emperor and Empress wept and fell to their knees, pleading for mercy. The fox however, could see the insincerity behind the actions as being only self-preservation and no actual guilt or regret. This angered the accolade and he cursed the two to become on the outside as they were inside. The Empress a peacock for her never ending vanity. And the Emperor a monkey, for his petty and laughable actions. The two animals, once royalty, fled into the wild, assimilating with the wildlife with no memory of who they once were. The fox decreed the blond and the raven would be fit rulers, and none dared to disagree. Overwhelmed but humbled, they accepted.  
Thus, a golden era came over the small kingdom that lasted hundreds of years. The two lovers were fair and gentle rulers, bringing wealth and equality back to the people who had long suffered under the former rule of terror. Having lived humble lives, neither cared much for the opulence surrounding the palace and chose instead to share their accumulated wealth cross the kingdom, earning them a much loved reign, known for their peaceful tactics that won over even the hardest of hearts that doubted them. Upon their deaths the fox accolade granted them a space in the sky where they remain for eternity, as two constellations cradling their hands. The force of their love enough to change a kingdom and move a God.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought!


End file.
